


Bransle Royale

by Ribby



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-07
Updated: 2007-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribby/pseuds/Ribby
Summary: A gift for a gift, from King to subject.





	Bransle Royale

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](https://edoraslass.livejournal.com/profile)[edoraslass](https://edoraslass.livejournal.com/), whose lovely ficlet [A Suitable Tribute](http://edoraslass.livejournal.com/130035.html#cutid1) sparked the idea--she mentions that the OFC, first seen in my drabble [Gifts of the People](http://ribby.livejournal.com/81258.html#cutid1), is a wonderful dancer, and dreams of dancing with the King. *grin* Bransle Royale is an English country-dance, rowdy and fun, where the men "toss" their partners around the circle...most of the time, you simply jump with a little help from your partner, but if you're lucky enough to get a strong man, he'll pick you up and swing you around... which is half the fun.

The dancing was well underway before anyone noticed the stranger in their midst... but he looked friendly enough, and it would be discourtesy not to welcome him. So they did, pressing both food and drink upon him, which he took with soft-voiced thanks, and encouraging him to join the dancing.

She noticed him out of the corner of her eye, and, startled, had to look again. Recognizing him, she kept silent, though her hand strayed to the edges of her hair, grown out to past her shoulder-blades now. Her husband smiled, and touched her hand. "It was worth it, and he would agree if he was here, I'm sure." She smiled.

A soft, diffident voice came from behind her. "May I claim the honor of a dance?" She turned, intending to gracefully decline, as she had done with all others. But she found herself facing their King, incognito in his rough Ranger garb. Her husband spoke, quietly as well. "Go... you have wished for this, and I can see how much it would mean."

Blushing, she extended her hand to her King. "May I know your name, fair lady?" he asked. "For I cannot dance with a partner I do not know." And the quirk of his grin reassured her, so that she drew herself up, smiled, and said, "Marrin is my name."

"Well then, Marrin, let us dance."

And he drew her into the forming circle, a rowdy country dance called Bransle Royale, where you swapped partners inside the circle. And when it was his turn to shift her, he raised her high and spun her, laughing, to his left and to her husband, who smiled, and passed her on.

She passed through the other men in the circle, laughing and smiling, and when she returned to the King, he did her a deep reverence, and she curtseyed. One hand extended to help her rise--the other lightly brushed her hair. "I have not forgotten your gift, fair Marrin, nor will I--it was a gift given in love, and I honor that." And then, to her surprise, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly, chastely. "My gift for yours, lady." He turned to her husband. "You are a lucky man, to have so great a lady as your wife."

And with those parting words, he slipped into the crowded square and was gone from view. And Marrin and her husband kept their encounter close and cherished and secret for all the rest of their lives... and Aragorn kept a braid of hair in the same chest he kept Boromir's bracers, where he kept all his most prized things.


End file.
